Corporal Punishment
Vigil
Join Date: 2003-10-28 Member: 22066Members
Join Date: 2003-10-28 Member: 22066Members
<div class="IPBDescription">A prologue as of now</div><b>Corporal Punishment</b>
Of course, I should’ve known that by the time I was through that airlock, I was already dead.
I rest my head against the bulkhead and try to keep my eyes open. I know that in the end it won’t do me any good, but I can’t help it. Even though I have a pistol in my hand, an easy, quick way out of this place, I don’t have the strength to pull the trigger. Not now, not this close to salvation. I have decided that I will fight to the bitter end, and that the bullets are best left for the others, not me.
I can hear them in the distance, as if they chuckle at me. I can’t see any, but I know they are out there, staying out of my sight, like they’re toying with me. I guess that’s exactly what I am, nothing but a toy for them. I feel my mind slipping, and unconsciousness is waiting with its arms open. The occasional sound of movement makes me stir, and helps me stay awake for just a little while longer. My wounds are wearing me down and my thoughts wander.
And so I have been dead ever since that airlock.
***
We didn’t know the ship’s name; we didn’t know why it was there; we didn’t know what had happened. We just followed Old Jenkins there, all five of us, blindly obeying our master. He had a ship, albeit a small one, and he had the contacts. Old Jenkins just needed a few extra pairs of hands, and that’s why we tagged along. We were all in it for the money.
"I’ve got another job. It’s real quick, real easy, and it’s gonna make you rich men. And I do mean it, this time. This is the real deal", the old man said to us. It wasn’t as if we really had a choice. Growing up on the desolate planet had been hard enough. Trying to make a living there was even harder.
So, we young ones gathered some supplies, while the old man pulled a few strings, called in a few favors, and we were off. The trip took us two whole weeks, and I thought I was going to lose my mind in that ****-hole. Old Jenkins woke us up as we neared the vessel, and, let me tell you, after those two weeks, the vessel looked more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. Of course, most of the lights were off, and it looked to be in a crap condition, but to my eyes, the ship looked absolutely stunning. Then again, the fact that we were supposed to be astonishingly rich after salvaging the research vessel only added to its beauty.
We quickly checked our gear as Old Jenkins’s <i>Liberator</i> docked, and Old Jenkins made sure that the conditions inside the vessel were good enough. We were mostly armed with pistols and shotguns, just in case, because sometimes those old, abandoned ships turned out to be not-quite-so-abandoned after all. The old man used to remind us every so often of that incident with <i>Haley Joel</i> and its crew. There were more of them, but Old Jenkins had been in the business longer, and he was more vicious. After that, Jenkins made sure to never travel alone, and always be the first one at the abandoned vessels. Not that other “cleaning crews” <i>wanted</i> to get in his way, especially after the rumors of <i>Haley Joel’s</i> fate began spreading.
The airlock opened with a hiss, and, as always, Old Jenkins was the first one through with his old hunting rifle ready. I came in close second, followed by Manny. Manny had something that the rest of us didn’t: education. He’d nearly been an engineer before Old Jenkins found him. Nearly. We never really asked why Manny was kicked out, and he never told us. But that’s how it was with the rest of us, too. A group of misfits without pasts. It was just the way we liked it.
The minute I stepped inside I could the difference between the cold, dark research vessel and the military ships we usually hunted. Compared to the claustrophobic insides that every single paramilitary force we had come across liked, this vessel was luxuriously furnished. There was plenty of room to walk in the corridors, and a lot of money had obviously been spent in just making the ship’s insides look hospitable. The ventilation system was still on, something I found strange at the time, but at least the air wasn’t too stale.
We spread out, checked our surroundings and then relaxed visibly. I flung my shotgun over my shoulder and followed Jenkins, as we started looking for a stairwell or a lift that’d takes us to the bridge. It wasn’t hard to find, as the ship had a good selection of maps on the walls, outlining the layout of all the major levels.
We didn’t waste much time looking at the sights, though I do admit that perhaps we should have. The bridge was like the rest of the ship. It was empty, and the lights were out. We took in our surroundings with our small flashlights. Old Jenkins smiled with glee.
-----
<i>More to come later. Comments appreciated.</i>
Of course, I should’ve known that by the time I was through that airlock, I was already dead.
I rest my head against the bulkhead and try to keep my eyes open. I know that in the end it won’t do me any good, but I can’t help it. Even though I have a pistol in my hand, an easy, quick way out of this place, I don’t have the strength to pull the trigger. Not now, not this close to salvation. I have decided that I will fight to the bitter end, and that the bullets are best left for the others, not me.
I can hear them in the distance, as if they chuckle at me. I can’t see any, but I know they are out there, staying out of my sight, like they’re toying with me. I guess that’s exactly what I am, nothing but a toy for them. I feel my mind slipping, and unconsciousness is waiting with its arms open. The occasional sound of movement makes me stir, and helps me stay awake for just a little while longer. My wounds are wearing me down and my thoughts wander.
And so I have been dead ever since that airlock.
***
We didn’t know the ship’s name; we didn’t know why it was there; we didn’t know what had happened. We just followed Old Jenkins there, all five of us, blindly obeying our master. He had a ship, albeit a small one, and he had the contacts. Old Jenkins just needed a few extra pairs of hands, and that’s why we tagged along. We were all in it for the money.
"I’ve got another job. It’s real quick, real easy, and it’s gonna make you rich men. And I do mean it, this time. This is the real deal", the old man said to us. It wasn’t as if we really had a choice. Growing up on the desolate planet had been hard enough. Trying to make a living there was even harder.
So, we young ones gathered some supplies, while the old man pulled a few strings, called in a few favors, and we were off. The trip took us two whole weeks, and I thought I was going to lose my mind in that ****-hole. Old Jenkins woke us up as we neared the vessel, and, let me tell you, after those two weeks, the vessel looked more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. Of course, most of the lights were off, and it looked to be in a crap condition, but to my eyes, the ship looked absolutely stunning. Then again, the fact that we were supposed to be astonishingly rich after salvaging the research vessel only added to its beauty.
We quickly checked our gear as Old Jenkins’s <i>Liberator</i> docked, and Old Jenkins made sure that the conditions inside the vessel were good enough. We were mostly armed with pistols and shotguns, just in case, because sometimes those old, abandoned ships turned out to be not-quite-so-abandoned after all. The old man used to remind us every so often of that incident with <i>Haley Joel</i> and its crew. There were more of them, but Old Jenkins had been in the business longer, and he was more vicious. After that, Jenkins made sure to never travel alone, and always be the first one at the abandoned vessels. Not that other “cleaning crews” <i>wanted</i> to get in his way, especially after the rumors of <i>Haley Joel’s</i> fate began spreading.
The airlock opened with a hiss, and, as always, Old Jenkins was the first one through with his old hunting rifle ready. I came in close second, followed by Manny. Manny had something that the rest of us didn’t: education. He’d nearly been an engineer before Old Jenkins found him. Nearly. We never really asked why Manny was kicked out, and he never told us. But that’s how it was with the rest of us, too. A group of misfits without pasts. It was just the way we liked it.
The minute I stepped inside I could the difference between the cold, dark research vessel and the military ships we usually hunted. Compared to the claustrophobic insides that every single paramilitary force we had come across liked, this vessel was luxuriously furnished. There was plenty of room to walk in the corridors, and a lot of money had obviously been spent in just making the ship’s insides look hospitable. The ventilation system was still on, something I found strange at the time, but at least the air wasn’t too stale.
We spread out, checked our surroundings and then relaxed visibly. I flung my shotgun over my shoulder and followed Jenkins, as we started looking for a stairwell or a lift that’d takes us to the bridge. It wasn’t hard to find, as the ship had a good selection of maps on the walls, outlining the layout of all the major levels.
We didn’t waste much time looking at the sights, though I do admit that perhaps we should have. The bridge was like the rest of the ship. It was empty, and the lights were out. We took in our surroundings with our small flashlights. Old Jenkins smiled with glee.
-----
<i>More to come later. Comments appreciated.</i>
Comments
I slowly walk up to the cart, only to see that Manny’s hand is still on it, along with all the electrical equipment he was supposed to bring us. I prod at the hand, but it doesn’t move. Cut off just below the wrist, rigor mortis has already set in.
***
Manny was the first to disappear. He set off for Liberator, to get the equipment that we needed, just before we noticed that something was terribly wrong. As I was chewing on a candy bar, I began to notice signs of battle. A few casings, bullet marks on various surfaces, and a little blood. It didn’t look like a big firefight, but it also looked like most of the evidence had been cleaned away. No bodies, and no makeshift barricades.
And when Manny just didn’t return, we knew something was wrong. We needed Manny’s equipment so that we could have even a possibility of getting the vessel running again. We used small, simple radios, but he didn’t respond. Old Jenkins didn’t really care, but the rest of us were getting nervous.
Old Jenkins decided to send Vasquez and me to see what was keeping Manny. Reluctantly, we agreed. Vasquez was a middle-aged man with a wife and two kids. His dream was to buy a ticket to get off-planet for his family, once he had got the funds. He was an easy-going person when around friends and family, and more quiet and reserved when around people he didn’t know.
It was a dog-sized... thing that killed Vasquez. Leaping out of nowhere, it landed on him as we got to the stairwell. I could only stare wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before me. Four incredibly sharp claws tore the man’s chest open, spilling blood all around us. I knew I should’ve raised my shotgun, I knew I should’ve fired at the creature from my nightmares, had Vasquez had any hope of survival. I couldn’t budge.
And that was it, the animal gone in a blink. I watched as Vasquez’s body slumped to the ground, his breathing only a wheeze as his time was running out. I couldn’t even crouch as he turned his head at me, as if trying to say something. I stared at the dying man, looking deep into his eyes as life in them faded away. I blinked, and as I realized that I had been glad that I was not the one hit, I turned and ran.
"We’re ****!" I uttered to myself, my sight darting back and forth, desperately trying to find any sign of another ambush. Then I heard the gunfire, coming from the bridge. I sprinted forward.
---
<i>And that's for the second part. This most likely won't be too long, but depending on my mood, I might use this a prologue and continue the story later. Rather than being </i>really<i> set in the NS universe, I've changed quite a few things.</i>